


The End

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, Futurefic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-10
Updated: 2003-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 08:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Clark and Lex are enemies, they still need each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Lady Angel for the beta. All other mistakes are my own. 

## The End

by Ruby

<http://www.geocities.com/rubyswritings>

* * *

Title: The End  
Author: Ruby   
E-mail: rubysslash@prodigy.net   
Website: <http://www.geocities.com/rubyswritings> Disclaimer: They're not mine. God, I wish they were mine. Can I have them, please? Archive: Ask first.  
Pairing: Clark/Lex  
Category: Drama, angst, future-fic  
Rating: PG-13 for un-detailed violence Spoilers: Not really  
Summary: Even though Clark and Lex are enemies, they still need each other. Author's Feedback: Oh man, I love feedback! Feedback makes me write more. 

* * *

Calm and silent, or thrashing and keening in agony, it really didn't make a difference in the end. And the end is all that ever mattered, how it ended, how he _let_ it end. 

Was it a good ending? Did he make it in time? Would he fly away with grateful words and relieved sobs following in his wake? Or was it a bad ending? Did it leave everyone broken and bleeding, life slipping away so fast that not even Superman could catch it? 

Good or bad? It wasn't a question that anybody walking past room 314 of Metropolis General would have to ask. The scene itself all too readily gave the answer. 

There was a young woman, beautiful, with straight dark hair like a perfect memory. The past flawed by the paleness of her skin and the steady, mechanical breathing of the respirator. She was gravely injured, two bullets having brutally ripped into yielding flesh. The bullets came from the gun of a sadistic man who liked to play with his victims before he killed them. 

Kidnapped from a grocery store parking lot, in front of half a dozen witnesses, Christina Morgan was taken to a deserted warehouse three miles away from her home and husband of just six weeks. 

In the middle of rusted, abandoned machinery, Christina stood with her hands tied behind her back and silently wept for everything she was about to lose. Blood trickled from a split lip, splashing to the floor to mingle with the blood that ran down between her thighs. She flinched when the mad-man caressed her cheek in a disgusting parody of affection and whispered, "Please, God. No," when he replaced his fingers with the barrel of a gun. 

He was so focused on tracing the path of her tears, that he didn't hear her plea. God didn't hear her either, but someone else did. 

Superman came to a halt, high above the city of Metropolis and listened intently. There it was again, a muffled, terrified sob of someone who knew of their fate. He took off like a shot, flying faster then sight and sound. He passed over a grocery store where police were diligently questioning witnesses in an alleged kidnapping. He shook the windows of a small house on Heston road, where David Morgan was dialing the last number of his wife's cell phone. He burst threw the door of the old warehouse the same moment two shots and the shrilling of a phone rang out. 

Taking in the scene in front of him. Superman raced across the room, throwing the man into the far wall and catching the woman as she crumpled to the ground. He glanced at the man, only distantly noticing the unnatural angle of his neck before scooping the woman into his arms and making for the hospital. 

He appeared in the emergency room soaked with blood and demanding a doctor. People responded immediately. The woman was taken, orders were given, and the battle to save a life was on. It would prove a pointless endeavor. 

Christina's internal organs were shutting down; there was too much damage, too much blood loss. And at 11:34 PM on August 16th 2015, Christina Morgan took her last unassisted breath. Three hours later, she was declared brain dead and her husband, screaming in denial, was dragged away from her bed, sedated, and left sleeping in the next room. 

At just past three in the morning, Christina was as still and lifeless as the man that stood in vigil at the foot of her bed. Superman stared at the woman and his silent rage turned to quiet despair. He couldn't keep doing this. No matter how hard he tried the endings kept getting worse and worse. He just wanted it to stop. _He_ just wanted to stop, stop fighting, stop struggling, stop _losing_. 

He needed to leave, leave the hospital and Metropolis, and maybe the whole damn planet. He'd almost given into the urge when the door opened, admitting arrogance and the tread of expensive shoes. The visitor was unexpected but Superman couldn't bring himself to actually be surprised. Lex Luthor had the unparalleled ability of always being around when a situation got really bad. It was usually to gloat but sometimes, like now, it wasn't. 

"You did what you could," Lex said softly, taking up position next to Superman. 

The reply was just as quietly spoken. "It wasn't good enough. She's still going to die." 

"Yeah," he agreed, "but she won't die in some old warehouse. She'll be here, with her family." 

"Why does she have to die at all, Lex? Why does it have to end like _this_?" 

Lex shrugged and their shoulders brushed with fourteen years of familiarity. "I don't know but you can't take responsibility for how this turns out. Sometimes it's not up to you how things end, sometimes they just end." 

"Like us?" 

It wasn't a question that would have normally been asked, but in the stillness of the room, it seemed almost appropriate. 

"We're not over, Clark." 

It bordered on a threat, but Superman found comfort in it anyway, just like he found comfort in the way Lex said his name. It didn't make sense, but things rarely did between them. 

"Why are you here?" 

Lex answered like it should be obvious. "I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

Clark couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice. "But you're always doing something awful to me. I would think that you'd want me to be _not_ okay." 

"Well yeah, but only if I'm the cause. It's no fun when you torture yourself." 

The sad thing was, it was true. It was one of the few things that had never really changed between them. They would hurt each other deliberately and unapologetically, but they would also protect one another from any other attack, even if that attack came internally. They'd been trying to save and destroy each other for more years than Clark wanted to think about. 

But think he did, and his mind took the same path as always, straight into the past and a time when anything was possible. It was a time of amazing discoveries and unlikely friends, of laughter and shy smiles. It was a time when a single decision could have made all the difference. 

Clark was suddenly so frustrated with the choices they'd made that he felt like crying. Rubbing the sting out of his eyes, Clark couldn't help asking, couldn't help confirming what he already knew. 

"Can't we just stop, Lex? Can't we go back to the way things were?" 

Lex was shaking his head softy, sadly. 

"Why not?" Clark pleaded, turning to look at Lex for the first time. "I know you still care. If you didn't, you wouldn't be here now." 

Turning as well, Lex gave into the urge and lightly traced Clark's jaw. "My caring about you has never been in question. I don't think I'll ever stop loving you," he answered honestly. "The problem, is that I don't think I'll ever stop hating you either." 

Clark closed his eyes and leaned into the touch for a split second before straightening and taking a step back. He understood what Lex meant, he felt the same way. He loved Lex for who he was, and hated him for what he'd become. It wasn't something they could change, so they would just have to accept it and continue on. 

And they would continue. There would be years of battles and destruction, victories and losses, love and hate. It would be a small town friendship surviving anything two men and a global war could throw at it. 

The hero and the villain, enemies for all the world to see, and friends when no one else was looking. They were men who could never go back, but would continue to move forward without an end in sight. And when it came right down to it, the end is all that mattered, how it ended, when it ended... _if_ it ever ended. 


End file.
